


Stuck On You

by lenaballena



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Asexual Character, Christmas fluff kinda ? not super Christmassy to be honest, M/M, but festive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 11:36:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5538407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lenaballena/pseuds/lenaballena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac brings Combeferre home to his family for Christmas, and they make some assumptions he doesn't bother correcting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stuck On You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mistakeshavebeenmade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistakeshavebeenmade/gifts).



> For a prompt that asked for: Ace/aro spec Courf and/or Ferre

Combeferre is the love of Courfeyrac’s life.

It seems a little presumptuous to say as much when they’ve been dating for just over seven months, but Courfeyrac doesn’t really do things halfway. And if he wasn’t sure before, bringing Combeferre home to meet his family cements it. 

Courfeyrac’s family is ridiculous. It’s as simple as that. There are just too many of them, they’re all excessively loud, and half of them insist on pretending they don’t speak english around Combeferre. His four older sisters seem to have specially dug up every embarrassing thing Courfeyrac has ever done for the occasion, and his three younger ones are apparently under the impression that Combeferre is a special present Courfeyrac brought for them that functions as canvas, dance partner, and target practice. His father falls into the category of pretending not to speak english, as he’s been interacting with Combeferre solely by staring him down and grunting out a stream of aggressive spanish. His mother is convinced Combeferre’s never had a proper meal in his life and keeps following him around with bowls of pozole and handfuls of sopapillas, shoving them at him intermittently. His uncle Tomás spent half an hour trying to convince Combeferre to give up medicine and take a job with him at his mechanic shop. His uncle Tomás works in a marketing firm. 

And Combeferre, well, he takes all of it in stride.

Courfeyrac watches as his Nina Marianna sits on one side of Combeferre, loudly recounting, in detail, the latest gossip from her church group, and his little sister Telesfora (who they all call Tilly, because Telesfora is possibly the world’s worst name for a seven year old, but she was cursed, as Courfeyrac was, with being named after a great-grand parent) sitting in front of him as he braids her hair. 

“ _God_ , you’re lucky.” Courfeyrac turns to see his cousin, (well, he calls her his cousin, really she’s the daughter of his mom’s cousin’s second wife, and he has no idea what that makes her so cousin is just easier) Mona, leaning against the counter across from him and watching Combeferre with a wistful look. “Where did you even find a guy like that? I want one.”

Courfeyrac chuckles, unable to keep the smile off his face. “You know what they say, love works best when you fall for your best friend.”

“Is that what they say?” She says distractedly, eyes still on Combeferre. “I was kinda talking about the tattoos, though. And the arms they’re attached to. And that _body_.” She takes a drink of something that seems to be 80% alcohol. “If I had that in my bed, I wouldn’t be able to walk straight for _weeks._ ”

Courfeyrac feels his eyes widen in response. It’s not that Mona’s words are particularly scandalizing, especially not for her; she’s always been really blatant about these things. It’s more that, well. Combeferre and Courfeyrac don’t have sex. It’s something they agreed on from the beginning, and it works really well for them. They’re in love, happily and entirely, and neither of them has ever, even for a second, felt something was missing just because they aren’t having sex.

Courfeyrac hasn’t _exactly_ gotten around to telling his family this.

Honestly, he doesn’t think it’s any of their business whether he’s having sex with Combeferre or not, and they’ve never outright asked him ‘hey, you and Combeferre have sex, right?’ so he’s pretty sure it doesn’t count as lying. Just… not going out of his way to tell them the truth.

Mona obviously notices his discomfort and trips over her words as she rushes to add, “Not that I’m like, moving in on your territory or anything, just like.” She lets out a low whistle. “He looks like he’d treat you right, if you know what I mean.”

Courfeyrac smiles, if a little awkwardly. “Oh, he does.” And that’s not a lie either.

\---

Courfeyrac finds Combeferre later, steals him away from Tia Raquel and drags him into the kitchen, blissfully empty since no one wants to be caught inside it and roped into doing the dishes. Combeferre threads his fingers through Courfeyrac’s and pulls him close, their noses brushing as they smile at each other.

“I missed you.” Courfeyrac says, and watches as Combeferre’s smile widens.

“I haven’t gone anywhere.”

“I missed having you to myself.” Courfeyrac leans up to kiss Combeferre easily, sighing as he pulls away, “Sorry if my family’s been completely overwhelming.”

Combeferre chuckles, warm and low. “They’re hilarious, and wonderful. Did you know that your great aunt Lourdes can recite entire scenes of Casablanca from memory?”

“Oh god, she _didn’t_.” Courfeyrac groans, letting his forehead fall against Combeferre’s, feeling the vibration of Combeferre’s laugh. “I know I already preemptively apologized for my family, but I’d just like to do so again. And about thirty more times before we go back home, probably.”

"Don't, I love them.” Combeferre hums thoughtfully, tracing small circles against the back of Courfeyrac’s hand. “Although, your, uh, cousin? I think? She was asking some… intense questions. About us.”

Courfeyrac huffs. “Short brown hair, red dress?” Combeferre nods. “That’s, um, Mona. She’s too invested in other people’s sex lives, and not actually related to me.”

“That’s comforting.” Combeferre says, then pauses. “And was it just me, or did your mom not seem particularly happy to put us in a double bed?”

“Not just you. Not just her, either.” Courfeyrac rolls his eyes. “Everyone’s making little sly references to me bringing a boy home; Tia Christina wanted to know _how often we use condoms_. I almost wanted to say never, just to see the look on her face.” 

Combeferre huffs out a laugh, grinning down at him. “Well, I wasn’t gonna mention it, but apparently Mona has the room next to ours, and is fully prepared to sleep with earplugs, should we need it.”

“Oh my _god_.” Courfeyrac groans, and Combeferre laughs, loud and open, at Courfeyrac’s exasperation. “I’ve changed my mind, ‘ferre, your Christmas present this year is gonna be matching shirts that say ‘ _I have no intention of sleeping with him_ ’ and have arrows pointing at each other. Hell, maybe I’ll just tell them I’m asexual and get it over with, sure would save us a lot of hassle.”

Combeferre shrugs. “Honestly, I don’t see how it’s any of their business. They’re not entitled to details of our sex life, even if there isn’t one to speak of.”

Courfeyrac looks up, at the way Combeferre’s glasses have shifted ever so slightly crooked on his nose, and the rich tone of his skin, at the way his hair’s been fluffing up in the humid December air and the reassuring but playful smile on his lips. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

\---

When everyone who isn’t staying over begins to leave, Courfeyrac is faced with an assault of relatives lining up to tell him what a great guy Combeferre is, and feels a sort of smugness at the whole thing. Of course, he always knew his boyfriend was incredible, but it’s nice to have a couple dozen members of your extended family line up to reiterate the information.

As they get ready for bed that evening, Courfeyrac thinks about his relationship with Combeferre. Their first date was at the aquarium, because they had a new exhibit that Combeferre was dying to check out, and they didn’t decide it was a date until halfway through. Somehow they both survived the transition from best friends to boyfriends, and were on the same page with regards to sex, and it’s all just been… amazing.

Sure, they argue, because they’ve always had their arguments, and no relationship is perfect, but Courfeyrac gets to wake up next to his best friend every day and kiss him anytime he wants, so what more could he ask for, really?

Courfeyrac lies in bed, just thinking, and Combeferre lies next to him, quietly reading a murder mystery he bought for the journey (he guessed the murderer a chapter in, but he’ll read it through to the end anyway), when he begins to feel a little mischievous.

So he starts moaning.

Quiet at first, so Combeferre probably thinks he’s just making sleep noises, but gradually louder, trying for debauched. 

Combeferre looks over at him from the top of his book. “Are you aware you sound like low-quality porn?’

“How do you know what low-quality porn sounds like, huh?” Courfeyrac teases, before starting to moan at a higher pitch, breath coming out in shudders.

“Courf, and I say this with love, what the _hell_ are you doing?”

Courfeyrac turns his face to look at Combeferre, grinning excitedly. “What do you think are the odds that Mona _actually_ went to bed wearing earplugs?”

“Slim to none. You’re not thinking…”

Combeferre trails off as Courfeyrac answers his question by beginning to rock the bed beneath them, the springs of the mattress whining in protest at every lurch. “C’mon,” He whispers at Combeferre, who raises an eyebrow at him. “It’s fun.”

Combeferre takes off his glasses and rubs at the bridge of his nose. “We’re in your grandmother’s house.”

“And she’s nearly deaf, and rooms away.” Courfeyrac says, grinning up at him.

Combeferre shakes his head, a fond but not a little exasperated smile on his face, a smile that has always meant he’s decided , possibly against his better judgment, to go along with whatever scheme Courfeyrac has decided on, before letting out a low grunt. Then another, louder this time, and he smiles at Courfeyrac sheepishly. “Well, I feel ridiculous.”

“Good!” Courfeyrac whispers, reaching for his hand. “Be ridiculous with me.” He sits up and bounces in place, the box springs crying out under him, panting as he lifts himself up and down on the bed.

Combeferre starts moaning, his low, rich voice mixing with Courfeyrac’s steady pants, and the two of them shift the bed together, even managing to knock the headboard against the wall. 

“Oh yeah, just there-“ Courfeyrac whines, and Combeferre snorts back a laugh as he rocks the bed in place, picking up a rhythm before letting it slow to a stop. 

Courfeyrac’s not sure who makes the first move, whether he grabs Combeferre’s arm or Combeferre pulls him in by the waist but in a moment Combeferre is braced on top of him, tickling his sides and Courfeyrac is squirming under him, the old bed still squealing in protest and Courfeyrac’s breathless giggles filling the air. It’s a good finale, if you ask Courfeyrac, and they collapse into laughter side by side, Combeferre’s arm braced under Courfeyrac, their faces flushed and happy. Courfeyrac lets out one last moan, for good measure. 

“You,” Combeferre pants, turning to look at Courfeyrac with a content smile. “Are impossible, you know that? All these years and you still manage to find new ways to be the best part of my day.”

And really, how can Courfeyrac respond to that other than by kissing him?

He tries for something long, deep and meaningful, but they’re both smiling into the kiss, and a little breathless, and they keep having to pull away to giggle at their own immaturity, and it’s perfect anyway. When they pull away their legs have tangled together, and later, when Courfeyrac falls asleep in Combeferre’s arms, their smiles still haven’t faded.

\---

(The next morning, when they make their way down to breakfast, Mona corners him at the fridge.

“Honestly, I love that you’re having incredible sex adventures with a hot doctor, I do, I’m so happy for you. But maybe you guys could tone it down a bit in the future? Let those of us who don’t have ridiculously awesome sex lives get a little shut-eye?”

Afterwards, Courfeyrac has to bury his face in Combeferre’s sweater to muffle his laughter. 

One day, he’ll set the record straight with his family. Combeferre makes him so ridiculously happy, and he knows that’s what they want for him, even if their relationship isn’t exactly what they’d expect.

But for right now, he’s perfectly happy keeping it to himself.)

**Author's Note:**

> I tried a few new things with this prompt: writing an asexual relationship dynamic, which I've never done before, and writing a fic that's not, like, 80 thousand words. i tried to keep it short and fluffy as hell, since I've been crazy busy and kind of in a writing rut, i just wanted to write something quick and lovely that i enjoyed, and i did that, so i'm calling it a win.
> 
> anyway, i might reread it and make some edits if i think it's necessary, but 
> 
> noel, sorry i couldn't manage to write it canon era, hope you enjoyed it though, and hope you have a happy christmas :)


End file.
